Chapter XXII. Riders of the Purple Sage

by Zane Grey

　　Black Star and Night, answering to spur, swept swiftly westwardalong the white, slow-rising, sage-bordered trail. Venters hearda mournful howl from Ring, but Whitie was silent. The blackssettled into their fleet, long-striding gallop. The wind sweetlyfanned Venters's hot face. From the summit of the firstlow-swelling ridge he looked back. Lassiter waved his hand; Janewaved her scarf. Venters replied by standing in his stirrups andholding high his sombrero. Then the dip of the ridge hid them.From the height of the next he turned once more. Lassiter, Jane,and the burros had disappeared. They had gone down into the Pass.Venters felt a sensation of irreparable loss.

　　"Bern--look!" called Bess, pointing up the long slope.

　　A small, dark, moving dot split the line where purple sage metblue sky. That dot was a band of riders.

　　"Pull the black, Bess."

　　They slowed from gallop to canter, then to trot. The fresh andeager horses did not like the check.

　　"Bern, Black Star has great eyesight."

　　"I wonder if they're Tull's riders. They might be rustlers. Butit's all the same to us."

　　The black dot grew to a dark patch moving under low dust clouds.It grew all the time, though very slowly. There were long periodswhen it was in plain sight, and intervals when it dropped behindthe sage. The blacks trotted for half an hour, for anotherhalf-hour, and still the moving patch appeared to stay on thehorizon line. Gradually, however, as time passed, it began toenlarge, to creep down the slope, to encroach upon theintervening distance.

　　"Bess, what do you make them out?" asked Venters. "I don't thinkthey're rustlers."

　　"They're sage-riders," replied Bess. "I see a white horse andseveral grays. Rustlers seldom ride any horses but bays andblacks."

　　"That white horse is Tull's. Pull the black, Bess. I'll get downand cinch up. We're in for some riding. Are you afraid?"

　　"Not now," answered the girl, smiling.

　　"You needn't be. Bess, you don't weigh enough to make Black Starknow you're on him. I won't be able to stay with you. You'llleave Tull and his riders as if they were standing still."

　　"How about you?"

　　"Never fear. If I can't stay with you I can still laugh atTull."

　　"Look, Bern! They've stopped on that ridge. They see us."

　　"Yes. But we're too far yet for them to make out who we are.They'll recognize the blacks first. We've passed most of theridges and the thickest sage. Now, when I give the word, letBlack Star go and ride!"

　　Venters calculated that a mile or more still intervened betweenthem and the riders. They were approaching at a swift canter.Soon Venters recognized Tull's white horse, and concluded thatthe riders had likewise recognized Black Star and Night. But itwould be impossible for Tull yet to see that the blacks were notridden by Lassiter and Jane. Venters noted that Tull and the lineof horsemen, perhaps ten or twelve in number, stopped severaltimes and evidently looked hard down the slope. It must have beena puzzling circumstance for Tull. Venters laughed grimly at thethought of what Tull's rage would be when he finally discoveredthe trick. Venters meant to sheer out into the sage before Tullcould possibly be sure who rode the blacks.

　　The gap closed to a distance to half a mile. Tull halted. Hisriders came up and formed a dark group around him. Ventersthought he saw him wave his arms and was certain of it when theriders dashed into the sage, to right and left of the trail. Tullhad anticipated just the move held in mind by Venters.

　　"Now Bess!" shouted Venters. "Strike north. Go round those ridersand turn west."

　　Black Star sailed over the low sage, and in a few leaps got intohis stride and was running. Venters spurred Night after him. Itwas hard going in the sage. The horses could run as well there,but keen eyesight and judgment must constantly be used by theriders in choosing ground. And continuous swerving from aisle toaisle between the brush, and leaping little washes and mounds ofthe pack-rats, and breaking through sage, made rough riding. WhenVenters had turned into a long aisle he had time to look up atTull's riders. They were now strung out into an extended lineriding northeast. And, as Venters and Bess were holding duenorth, this meant, if the horses of Tull and his riders had thespeed and the staying power, they would head the blacks and turnthem back down the slope. Tull's men were not saving theirmounts; they were driving them desperately. Venters feared onlyan accident to Black Star or Night, and skilful riding wouldmitigate possibility of that. One glance ahead served to show himthat Bess could pick a course through the sage as well as he. Shelooked neither back nor at the running riders, and bent forwardover Black Star's neck and studied the ground ahead.

　　It struck Venters, presently, after he had glanced up from timeto time, that Bess was drawing away from him as he had expected.He had, however, only thought of the light weight Black Star wascarrying and of his superior speed; he saw now that the black wasbeing ridden as never before, except when Jerry Card lost therace to Wrangle. How easily, gracefully, naturally, Bess sat hersaddle! She could ride! Suddenly Venters remembered she had saidshe could ride. But he had not dreamed she was capable of suchsuperb horsemanship. Then all at once, flashing over him,thrilling him, came the recollection that Bess was Oldring'sMasked Rider.

　　He forgot Tull--the running riders--the race. He let Night have afree rein and felt him lengthen out to suit himself, knowing hewould keep to Black Star's course, knowing that he had beenchosen by the best rider now on the upland sage. For Jerry Cardwas dead. And fame had rivaled him with only one rider, and thatwas the slender girl who now swung so easily with Black Star'sstride. Venters had abhorred her notoriety, but now he tookpassionate pride in her skill, her daring, her power over ahorse. And he delved into his memory, recalling famous rideswhich he had heard related in the villages and round thecamp-fires. Oldring's Masked Rider! Many times this strangerider, at once well known and unknown, had escaped pursuers bymatchless riding. He had to run the gantlet of vigilantes downthe main street of Stone Bridge, leaving dead horses and deadrustlers behind. He had jumped his horse over the Gerber Wash, adeep, wide ravine separating the fields of Glaze from the wildsage. He had been surrounded north of Sterling; and he had brokenthrough the line. How often had been told the story of daystampedes, of night raids, of pursuit, and then how the MaskedRider, swift as the wind, was gone in the sage! A fleet, darkhorse--a slender, dark form--a black mask--a driving run down theslope--a dot on the purple sage--a shadowy, muffled steeddisappearing in the night!

　　And this Masked Rider of the uplands had been Elizabeth Erne!

　　The sweet sage wind rushed in Venters's face and sang a song inhis ears. He heard the dull, rapid beat of Night's hoofs; he sawBlack Star drawing away, farther and farther. He realized bothhorses were swinging to the west. Then gunshots in the rearreminded him of Tull. Venters looked back. Far to the side,dropping behind, trooped the riders. They were shooting. Venterssaw no puffs or dust, heard no whistling bullets. He was out ofrange. When he looked back again Tull's riders had given uppursuit. The best they could do, no doubt, had been to get nearenough to recognize who really rode the blacks. Venters saw Tulldrooping in his saddle.

　　Then Venters pulled Night out of his running stride. Those fewmiles had scarcely warmed the black, but Venters wished to savehim. Bess turned, and, though she was far away, Venters caughtthe white glint of her waving hand. He held Night to a trot androde on, seeing Bess and Black Star, and the sloping upwardstretch of sage, and from time to time the receding black ridersbehind. Soon they disappeared behind a ridge, and he turned nomore. They would go back to Lassiter's trail and follow it, andfollow in vain. So Venters rode on, with the wind growing sweeterto taste and smell, and the purple sage richer and the sky bluerin his sight; and the song in his ears ringing. By and by Besshalted to wait for him, and he knew she had come to the trail.When he reached her it was to smile at sight of her standing witharms round Black Star's neck.

　　"Oh, Bern! I love him!" she cried. "He's beautiful; he knows; andhow he can run! I've had fast horses. But Black Star!...Wranglenever beat him!"

　　"I'm wondering if I didn't dream that. Bess, the blacks aregrand. What it must have cost Jane--ah!--well, when we get out ofthis wild country with Star and Night, back to my old home inIllinois, we'll buy a beautiful farm with meadows and springs andcool shade. There we'll turn the horses free--free to roam andbrowse and drink--never to feel a spur again--never to beridden!"

　　"I would like that," said Bess.

　　They rested. Then, mounting, they rode side by side up the whitetrail. The sun rose higher behind them. Far to the left a lowfine of green marked the site of Cottonwoods. Venters looked onceand looked no more. Bess gazed only straight ahead. They put theblacks to the long, swinging rider's canter, and at times pulledthem to a trot, and occasionally to a walk. The hours passed, themiles slipped behind, and the wall of rock loomed in the fore.The Notch opened wide. It was a rugged, stony pass, but withlevel and open trail, and Venters and Bess ran the blacks throughit. An old trail led off to the right, taking the line of thewall, and his Venters knew to be the trail mentioned by Lassiter.

　　The little hamlet, Glaze, a white and green patch in the vastwaste of purple, lay miles down a slope much like the Cottonwoodsslope, only this descended to the west. And miles farther west afaint green spot marked the location of Stone Bridge. All therest of that world was seemingly smooth, undulating sage, with noragged lines of canyons to accentuate its wildness.

　　"Bess, we're safe--we're free!" said Venters. "We're alone on thesage. We're half way to Sterling."

　　"Ah! I wonder how it is with Lassiter and MissWithersteen."

　　"Never fear, Bess. He'll outwit Tull. He'll get away and hide hersafely. He might climb into Surprise Valley, but I don't thinkhe'll go so far."

　　"Bern, will we ever find any place like our beautiful valley?"

　　"No. But, dear, listen. Well go back some day, after years--tenyears. Then we'll be forgotten. And our valley will be just as weleft it."

　　"What if Balancing Rock falls and closes the outlet to the Pass?"

　　"I've thought of that. I'll pack in ropes and ropes. And if theoutlet's closed we'll climb up the cliffs and over them to thevalley and go down on rope ladders. It could be done. I know justwhere to make the climb, and I'll never forget."

　　"Oh yes, let us go back!"

　　"It's something sweet to look forward to. Bess, it's like all thefuture looks to me."

　　"Call me--Elizabeth," she said, shyly.

　　"Elizabeth Erne! It's a beautiful name. But I'll never forgetBess. Do you know--have you thought that very soon--by this timeto-morrow--you will be Elizabeth Venters?"

　　So they rode on down the old trail. And the sun sloped to thewest, and a golden sheen lay on the sage. The hours sped now; theafternoon waned. Often they rested the horses. The glisten of apool of water in a hollow caught Venters's eye, and here heunsaddled the blacks and let them roll and drink and browse. Whenhe and Bess rode up out of the hollow the sun was low, a crimsonball, and the valley seemed veiled in purple fire and smoke. Itwas that short time when the sun appeared to rest before setting,and silence, like a cloak of invisible life, lay heavy on allthat shimmering world of sage.

　　They watched the sun begin to bury its red curve under the darkhorizon.

　　"We'll ride on till late," he said. "Then you can sleep a little,while I watch and graze the horses. And we'll ride into Sterlingearly to-morrow. We'll be married!...We'll be in time to catchthe stage. We'll tie Black Star and Night behind--and then--for acountry not wild and terrible like this!"

　　"Oh, Bern!...But look! The sun is setting on the sage--the lasttime for us till we dare come again to the Utah border. Tenyears! Oh, Bern, look, so you will never forget!"

　　Slumbering, fading purple fire burned over the undulating sageridges. Long streaks and bars and shafts and spears fringed thefar western slope. Drifting, golden veils mingled with low,purple shadows. Colors and shades changed in slow, wondroustransformation.

　　Suddenly Venters was startled by a low, rumbling roar--so lowthat it was like the roar in a sea-shell.

　　"Bess, did you hear anything?" hewhispered.

　　"No."

　　"Listen!...Maybe I only imagined--Ah!"

　　Out of the east or north from remote distance, breathed aninfinitely low, continuously long sound--deep, weird, detonating,thundering, deadening--dying.